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My friend Kailyn and I chose to go prayer walking in downtown Vellore today. We intended to bathe the chaotic city with the peace of the Holy Spirit, leaving lasting fruits for all to see the glory of God. We prayed for several of the city’s homeless, trusting entirely on the Lord to communicate directly to their hearts as we were stuck without a translator. As always, the Lord is faithful, and we could truly see his hand touching the hearts of the men and women we interacted with. As we continued about our day, winding through the bustling city, we noticed a Hindu temple at the end of a long dirt road. We decided to enter it and pray over it. I approached the building with confidence. It’s just a building, I thought. The bold colors scream loudly in the face of all that pass by this busy dirt road, mocking them. The carved figures proudly flaunt their fresh flower necklaces, made in adoration by dedicated hands, hands that barely made enough money to feed their families. How dare these powerless carvings rob their worshippers of what little they have, offering nothing in return but social acceptance. A wave of disgust washed over me. I slipped off my sandals and passed under the threshold of the Hindu temple, stepping over the colorful paintings on the concrete floor. The thick scent of incense filled my nostrils, nearly knocking me over. My body barely had time to enter this shrine of wickedness before I felt it… Death. Death as thick as a wool blanket covered my eyes and though I looked around I could see nothing else. Blackness and decay poisoned my lungs with every breath I took. My spirit felt as though someone had tied a 100 pound weight to it… Heavy. Then the spirit of fear slithered down my spine, leaving my every hair standing on edge. I looked behind me, feeling the looming presence of someone unwelcome over my shoulder. I didn’t see him, but I felt him, his evil grin widening as he opened his hands, slipping his long, filthy fingers around my throat. My heart raced, and as quickly as I entered, I was gone, nothing but a tiny flicker of light, extinguished momentarily by the thick darkness of Satan himself. But the power of death is nothing compared to the power within me. As I breathed the uncontaminated air of the outside world, the Lord mercifully poured His clarity over my mind, again reminding me that the same power that conquered the grave lives in me. He placed His confidence in my heart and I prayed loudly from the doorway of the temple, proclaiming life and confidence and truth over this evil place. I asked the Lord to rain down clarity, to detangle the web of lies woven beyond the painted gate. I begged for revelation. I cried for salvation. Intercession took a new shape as I literally stood in the gap between the spirits of life and death, and though some of the people reading this will say I’ve lost it entirely, I couldn’t be more excited. Day by day the Lord is widening my vision to a whole new world, a world unseen and unnoticed by most of the people here on earth. And though the spiritual realm is largely ignored, often laughed at, it doesn’t make it any less real. I’ve felt it and I’ve seen it firsthand. We’re in a war here, my friends. I exhort you to join the winning side.